Page 27 of Hunted: Season Two

But the older man who has his arm possessively wrapped around my shoulder and the younger one who has his palm resting on my thigh so that his thumb can loving stroke it certainly do.

And they’re willing to stop at nothing when it comes to protecting what we have.

“These are most certainly some unusual times,” Elijah Post, the sheriff continues to explain, keeping most of the audience’s attention focused on him. “However, we willnotlet what happened to John, happen toanyone elsein our town!”

Hoots and hollers and applauds of approval have me scanning the crowd for the ones that aren’t.

Anyone who looks suspicious.

Like they’re paying more attention tomethan the “go team” speech by their beloved law enforcement.

Unexpected shivers suddenly rush up my spine as if someone’s stare has now latched onto me, and there’s no stopping my body from tensing in discomfort.

Who is it?!

Where are they?!

Why don’t they have the balls to show themselves?!

“Relax, Rabbit,” Nolan grumps under his breath, body tucking itself tighter against mine. “He ain’t talkin’ about you.”

Rather than confess that I’m not listening – or that I stopped listening due to being in a room full of strangers I’m not sure we should trust – I urgently proceed with my scanning of the people on the opposite half of the space, searching for the eerie feeling’s host.

The sight of a middle-aged, sandy beige skinned malerepeatedlycutting curious glances in my direction leads me to whispering a question to my boyfriend on the right, “Who’s the guy on the other side of the aisle, about four rows up?”

Nolan’s dark glare steals a small, inconspicuous glimpse before answering, “Wayland.” Our eyes momentarily meet. “Runs a big hotel chain. He’s married to English.”

“How the fuck are you married to a language?!”

A mirth-filled eye roll is given. “Her name is English. She runs the local B&B. It’s the only place you can stay in town if you don’t already know someone.”

“The place with no vacancies?”

“It definitely had fucking vacancies.” He narrows his stare yet again in amusement. “The Kid was just being a stubborn little shit.”

“He learned it from watching you.”

“Behave or you won’t be gettin’ any carrots for dessert.”

Post flashing a mischievous smirk, I ask, “Is there a reason he keeps looking over here?”

At that, Nolan steals a second glance that inspires him to arrogantly grin. “Probably because he can see your nipples through that sweater and fucking around on his wife is his favorite sport.”

Disgusted gags immediately escape me.

“I prefer football or Formula 1.”

“Is anyone in this fucking place faithful?”

“Us.” The lack of humor in his statement is accompanied by a possessive stroke of my bottom lip. “And never forget that.”

Having the digit within toying range prompts me to deliver the tiniest lick to his calloused thumb. Hungry grumbles barely being trapped behind gritted teeth is swiftly followed by me winking and leaning away to nestle closer to my other boyfriend who seems to be paying extremely close attention to the dark hickory shaded older gentleman that is now speaking behind the podium.

“Who’s that?” I quietly investigate, grateful we’re in the far back corner where we’re least likely to garner a vast amount of attention.

“Pastor Burton,” Kipp replies at the same muted volume, fingers beginning a light, loving stroke.

“The one whose wife was on her knees for a different type of worship?!”

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